


Meeting of Minds

by IrreWilderer



Series: “L’habit ne fait pas le moine” [1]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strong Language, over a desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrreWilderer/pseuds/IrreWilderer
Summary: The Captain enjoys Max’s violent enthusiasm.





	Meeting of Minds

The time betwixt knocking heads and knocking boots was but a second made of hard glances steeling harder, the foot of distance between them failing, and Archie taking in the scent of Max’s fresh breath and face cream, brought to her both by Auntie Cleo and the fact that Max was shoving her against the cabin wall.

_ “Ngh."_

Arguing nigh-on an hour over cosmic circumstance, the cool-headed captain weren’t hardly riled, but Max—Archie could feel the vicar’s blood hot in him as his hands, brushing against her belly and thighs, tangled with her belts, buttons, and waist-bands.

_ Those hands_. Long, thick fingers; creased and calloused palms: sliding over her hips, yanking down layers and spinning her ‘round, Archie missed those hands as she appreciated the cool metal newly stuck across her cheek; as she saw her breath fog on the wall, the rest of the ship melting immediately away.

_ Put those hands back on me. _

Max made fixated, throaty sounds; drown out the whistling swishes of silk and cotton. When his pants had been seen to—at his ankles, no doubt, like hers—he pressed into her from behind. 

_“Mm.”_

Archie twitched as the man’s cockhead prodded her folds. Once, twice; Max’s dick insisted at her slit, hard and determined, yet never filling her more than an inch before withdrawing. His huffing grumble in her hair, his hands gripping her thighs, Max’s grunts of disappointment matched her own, frustrated and desperate. 

“Just, uh—_well_.”

She wasn’t some stripling of eighteen, spread and swimming like a lake. With 36 years under her belt, Archie had to settle for a simpler, softer, full-body flush whenever the vicar met her vicinity, followed often by humming that throbbed away to a numbing of her nethers. That was her now: wanting and waiting, dazed and needing, but in fact needing maybe just a bit more than his gorgeous hands and clean body grinding against her.

“Here.”

She took a few steps. She bent to her elbows over the desk, spine arched; ass out. Humming approvingly, Max fastened one hand to Archie’s thigh. It was mean, that grip: sure, bruising; biting with its nails. The other hand fisted her hair, yanking. Head snapping back, Archie’s rounded eyes saw stars before finding the faraway ceiling. And then while Max let her stunned body tingle with its new sense of shocked, pin-pricking self, the man’s hand wormed around her hip, rubbing her clit.

_ “How’s this?” _

Archie weakened under his angry, iron will; under that thorough frenzy, total like a storm, which had her getting just as wet while his voice rumbled through her. 

Legs quivering with the echo of his smug tone, Archie began to buck, knees weak; stomach knotting. She instructed the man “keep—just keep on,” while she softened; slickened; swallowed him a bit more with each blunt nudging until, finally, Max’s long cock buried deep, heat consuming heat, each of them eagerly moaning as he filled her.

They panted, and gasped; the room was cloying with the reek of sex. Where Max’s fingers withdrew from her clit, Archie’s started, swirling how she liked. Fast, then slow; hitting every tempo. She worked herself hurriedly, jaw gone slack.

Max, however, had stilled. From how he panted raggedly—close at her ear; head probably stooped low—Archie figured it had been a while. She didn’t care; she let him collect himself how he would, for it was fucking _ perfect _ this way. Stretched around him, his cock pressing all the right buttons, touching all the right spots, and with her nub padded at by two practiced fingers, Archie was soon clenching around him as her orgasm neared. That tightening—that swelling at her stomach and reeling in her legs—had her nearly, so _ Law-damned _ nearly—

_ “Fuck.” _

Breaking his serenity, thrusting into her with short, hasty snappings of his hips, the vicar spat vitriol in her ear. Rather than this new pounding at her cunt, it was that cool tone with its abrasive edge which had Archie cumming then and there. When he cursed—fuck, was it something. Archie cried out; she slapped the table unintentionally; she was thankful for sound-proof walls.

With both hands resting on the table, Max met his end, as well, it seemed, his breaths sighing and thin, his skin like molten steel as he bent down closer; closer. Arms around her; face almost in her hair: were they on better terms Archie would consider it nearly an embrace. 

But they weren’t, and it wasn’t.

Pulling out, the vicar went about putting his clothing to rights. Archie kicked off the pants and smalls apprehending her ankles, and sprawled out on her cot, lighting up a Spacer’s Corona, its pack picked up from the floor.

“That was quite the meeting of minds,” Vicar Max commented as he turned to her, brow slanting at her unabashed, well-displayed, waste-down nakedness.

“And that’s a pretty generous comment, considering the venom you were slinging a mere five minutes ago.”

“Hm. Yes. That was…” He deliberated. “Rather barbarous of me. I should apologize.”

Taking a drag of her cigarette, Archie blew smoke and smiled. “But you won’t. Metaphysical differences and all.”

Max smiled, too. Just as knowing; just as amused. “I trust this debate won’t be circulating amongst the crew. I’m sure the Captain of the Unreliable has a reputation to consider.”

“Oh, yeah,” Archie agreed with dripping sarcasm. “Big reputation. _ Big _reputation.” She motioned to her spread legs, visible lady-bits, and chuckled lightly when the vicar looked, too. “Check your hair on the way out, Max,” she suggested.

Their eyes caught together. “Yes," said the vicar over his shoulder, turning. "Thank-you.”

Archie watched him lean closer to the mirror as he smoothed a hand over his coiffure. Max disappeared out the door between her next cigarette puff and the new cloud of smoke.


End file.
